Everybody's Fool
by dorkyduck09
Summary: Blaine Anderson isn't the person everybody thinks he is; he's not confident, he's not optimistic, and he's not happy. People see only what he wants them to see, and he keeps his true feelings to himself. Warnings for depression, self-loathing, self-harm.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hey everybody! Sorry this fic took so long, but it was tough to write and it's been a busy term at school. This has been sitting in my mind since Fills My Head and I'm so glad I finally got it out! The fic is complete so I'll be updating daily (or close to). This fic was titled after the song "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence.

BIG BIG thanks to my beautiful beta IJBeckinsdale for all the help and for always letting me come whine in your ask box.

You can find me at grantsbangs .tumblr .com.

Happy reading!

* * *

><p>Last year I was a junior at William McKinley High School in Lima, Ohio. My boyfriend and I were the only out gay men at our school. There was a lesbian couple too, but I think only one of them was actually a lesbian. The other one was, well, Brittany. Nobody really knew how to label her, but I don't think she really needs a label besides <em>Brittany<em>. It makes more sense if you know her. They didn't get much crap for being gay. Kurt and I did.

Kurt was a senior, along with most of my friends there. We were all in the glee club together. They started to get their college acceptance letters in early spring and were then all busy and happy making plans for their futures. People kept asking me what I wanted to do after high school, after college, for the rest of my life. My parents kept asking me who I wanted to be, but I never knew how to answer. See, I knew who I _wanted_ to be, but I didn't know who I would actually become. Who I want to be is too far out of my reach.

That's what happens when you're pathetic, like me. Who you are and who you wish you were don't align.

Even then, who I was and who people thought I was didn't align. People thought I was this bright, cheery guy. They thought I was all smiles and optimism and encouraging words, but they were wrong. They were so, so wrong. But I couldn't really blame them; they saw who I wanted them to see. If they saw who I really was, if they knew how I really felt, they wouldn't have been my friends. Nobody likes depressed people, and nobody likes fakes. Nobody likes somebody who doesn't even like himself.

So instead of letting people see the real me, I hid it from them. I left my true feelings buried away, where nobody could find them except me. I wrote everything down in a journal I kept hidden in my closet. Not even Kurt knew about any of it. I didn't know what I'd do if he did because he certainly would have left me. He thought I was so strong and brave and he thought of me as not only his boyfriend, but also his mentor. I was the guy who could do anything, no matter what adversity I faced. I was the guy who held him when he needed me, but never needed it myself. If he knew how much of what he thought of me was a lie, if he knew how much I hated myself, he'd leave me. I had convinced myself of that a long time ago.

He couldn't know about my parents, my self-loathing, and he most certainly couldn't know about the cutting. He couldn't know how I really felt about Finn after I transferred, or how I felt about the Warblers after they'd agreed to slushie him. He couldn't know how much it killed me that they would do that to him, to _me_, and never apologize. I never thought I'd lose them, too. I guess that's where this all started. Well, no, that's not actually true, but it is where it all started _again_. Let me explain.

I've been cutting myself since I was a freshman. I had just come out and I was getting all kinds of crap about it. My parents were not happy, not at all, and the kids at school were just plain cruel. My older brother had moved out by that time and he wasn't really around to help me. Though he was always just a phone call away, it wasn't really the same. Anyway, at first I only cut when I felt like I needed it, but as things at school got worse I found myself doing it more and more. Then came Sadie Hawkins. I went with a boy. We weren't together, but we were the only out gay kids and we were friendly enough. Some jocks beat the shit out of us. I woke up in the hospital friendless and ashamed. I cut myself every day after that.

My parents transferred me to Dalton Academy, and the place became my safe haven. I put a smile on my face and a spring in my step and everybody loved me. I was gay and nobody cared and I had friends for life (or so I thought). They thought I was happy, but it was all a lie. My parents never called me, never even pretended to care, and I sunk deeper and deeper into darkness. I cut myself more and more and nobody suspected a thing. Why would they? I was Perfect Blaine Anderson. Then Kurt came along and my whole world turned upside down. I had a boy to love, a boy to love me back. He respected me, he looked up to me, and he _understood_ me. It was all I wanted. The longer we were together, the less I cut. I actually started to feel happy when I never thought I would.

I transferred to McKinley because he was the most important thing in my life and I couldn't stand to be away from him. But Finn treated me like shit, even after a pleasant summer. Santana treated me like shit sometimes, too. I never knew where I stood with her. Kurt never stood up for me, and it hurt, and I started cutting again.

Then came the Michael-off.

I don't know what possessed me to do it. It was so stupid, and it was bound to go south. Of course I never realized that because, well, I'm me. And then I saw the slushie and Kurt standing in its way and I just dove because how could they fucking do that? I thought these guys were my friends. Why would they want to hurt Kurt? They had to know it would hurt me too, just not the way it actually did. Suddenly I had lost some of the most important people in my life. Why wasn't I fucking good enough? Again! How come everybody I ever knew always turned on me? What was wrong with me?

It had to be me, didn't it? If it was one or two people then maybe I could blame them, or brush it off as us just not being compatible with each other, but every single damn person I knew eventually left me, hurt me. And why? I couldn't figure out what was so wrong with me that everybody left. I still can't.

So I started cutting more, cutting deeper. I did it often and once again I got great at hiding it, even with Kurt seeing me naked often enough. I prided myself in my ability to hide my pain, but it was tearing me apart inside. I became obsessed with hiding it from Kurt. I couldn't lose him. I needed him.

He could never find out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm going on a date with Kurt tonight. He's taking me to Breadstix. Really it's the only place we ever go—the only place anybody ever goes—but it's delicious. It doesn't even matter, really, as long as I get to spend the night with him. He and Rachel have been so busy planning their NYADA auditions that I haven't gotten to see much of him lately. I'm really proud of him, of course. New York is his dream and he's almost there. I just wish it didn't mean he had to put me on the back burner. Is that selfish? I mean, I want him to succeed, but if he's already blowing me off and he's still in Lima, what's going to happen next year? _

_ Of course it's selfish. This is Kurt's dream, his big escape. To think about myself right now is just pathetic. I should be completely supportive, not worried about how this affects me. _

_ No wonder people don't like me. I'm just a selfish dick._

* * *

><p>"Ready to go, honey?" Kurt asked the moment I got the door open.<p>

"Yeah, just let me grab my coat." Winters in Lima, Ohio are the worst. It's just one of many reasons to hate this place. Trekking through two feet of snow is just completely unnecessary. Lewis and Clark should have just put a big "Do Not Enter" mark on those maps of theirs because this shit blows. Fortunately, Kurt left the car running so it was warm when we entered. The ride to Breadstix was toasty and quiet and I nearly fell asleep, but Kurt would have killed me so I stayed awake.

The hostess seated us and Kurt thanked her before looking at me with one of those grins that makes me weak in the knees. I completely forgot to worry about our relationship then.

"So," he said, excitement evident on his face, "Rachel and I have been working on our NYADA auditions all day. Rachel is singing 'My Man' because she did so well with it last year at Nationals auditions. She seriously makes me cry every time she sings it. There's no way she won't get in. As for me, I'm still torn between 'Defying Gravity' and 'As If We Never Said Goodbye.' I've been practicing them both. 'Defying Gravity' is definitely more unexpected and shows off my range quite well, but Rachel says 'As If We Never Said Goodbye' is more emotional and would show the judges a little more depth. Everybody cried when I sang that in glee. What do you think?"

I was a little taken aback. I was glad Kurt wanted my opinion, but _damn_ that was a big decision. I didn't know as much about musical theatre as he and Rachel did. What if I chose the wrong one?

"Well I haven't heard you sing either," I said. "Can we go back to your place after and you can sing them for me?" It had been an awfully long time since we'd been together, just the two of us, and I wanted to drag it out as long as possible. Besides, I hadn't seen Burt for a long time. He was the father I could never have, and I always felt a little better when he was around. I gave Kurt my puppy dog eyes and a big smile, the one I knew he couldn't resist.

"Blaine Anderson, you know I cannot say no to that face! Stop it!" Kurt said, but his laughter betrayed him. I laughed too, knowing I was going to get my way. "Fine, fine, yes, you can come over, but no funny business. My dad will be home and I have to work on this solo."

"I'll try to resist you, but you know how hard it is for me to do."

Dinner passed peacefully; no glares from other patrons, and no arguments between Kurt and I. Not that we argued much (if ever), but I had been so worried lately I had been sure I was going to slip up and snap at him. Thankfully I was able to keep a smile on my face.

We went back to Kurt's and he sang me his song choices in his bedroom and I just remember thinking 'damn, I am dating one talented boy.' I don't know what he saw in me. He deserved so much better than me and he never had any idea. He loved me, and it felt good. I wasn't going to break it to him that he was well out of my league. I told him that I agreed with Rachel, that I thought he should sing 'As If We Never Said Goodbye.' He smiled and thanked me, told me that my opinion mattered most to him. I couldn't help but kiss him then. I was just so damn happy to be with him. Even if the person he loved was a lie, sometimes it just felt so good to be loved that I didn't mind that he didn't actually love _me_.

We made out for a few minute before we heard Burt call up from the bottom of the stairs.

"It's getting awfully quiet up there," he yelled.

"And?" Kurt yelled back.

"Why don't you boys come downstairs? Kurt, you could make those cookies you actually let me eat." Kurt pulled off with an annoyed groan, but I smiled. Kurt had no idea how lucky he was. At least his father cared enough to watch out for him. His father loved him more than anything in this world. He would do anything for Kurt, would fight the whole world for him. Hell, the man had even entered congress because of Kurt. I was so happy for him, but I was so fucking jealous, too. My father didn't give a shit about me, hadn't ever since I came out. Sure it was a little annoying when Burt interrupted our more intimate moments (he kept an unnaturally close ear on us), but Kurt wasn't even allowed in my house. He had only met my parents because of my injured eye, and I never wanted him to have to see them again. They were cordial enough (they would never be openly rude to somebody—it wouldn't look good), but they made sure I knew exactly how they felt about him after he left. Even if they hadn't said he wasn't allowed back I wouldn't have brought him. He deserves better than to be looked down upon by those assholes.

"Cookies?" I asked Kurt, another smile on my face. I really do love cookies, and if his dad was offering, who were we to say no?

"Oh my god, Blaine. You are too cute for your own good, do you know that? I'll make you some damn cookies," he said as he rolled off the bed and walked towards the door.

I loved watching Kurt bake. He was so natural at it; gliding around the kitchen and pouring various ingredients into a mixing bowl. I was a mess in the kitchen—still am, actually—but Kurt was so comfortable in there. He chatted and sang and danced around the kitchen, the stress of his upcoming NYADA audition forgotten. He was so beautiful. I could see us together 10, 20 years from then doing the same thing—him dancing around the kitchen and me watching from the table—if he'd still have me in all those years, of course. I wanted us to be together forever, and I wondered if Kurt felt the same.

He wouldn't if he knew the truth.

I pulled my sleeves down self-consciously, making sure the cuts on my wrists were covered. Kurt would freak if he saw them, any of them. The old faded ones, or the brand new ones I'd put there earlier that day when I started thinking about how alone I'd be next year.

Kurt put the cookies in the oven and set the timer just as Burt walked into the kitchen.

"The cookies will be ready in 10 minutes, Dad, but you're only allowed to have one tonight."

"Yes, sir," Burt teased before turning to me. "How are you, Blaine? I haven't seen you around for awhile."

"I'm good. We've all been pretty busy with school and everything. I had a lot of catching up to do after my eye surgery." _Also, your son is abandoning me for New York and he's already starting to forget me so I've been home cutting myself_.

"Yeah, catching up is tough, but you're a smart kid. You'll get there, don't worry." I smiled at him, but couldn't thank him because a lump was forming in my throat. This man should have hated me—I was dating his son and had the power to break his heart—but he treated me better than my own father did. He supported me like I was his own kid. Besides Kurt, he's the one I worried the most about if anybody ever found out about the cutting and the, well, everything. I never wanted to disappoint Burt. I tugged at my sleeves again, making sure they stayed pulled over my hands as we waited for the cookies to finish. As soon as they were out I had a few with Kurt and quickly made my excuses to leave. I had missed going over there so much, but suddenly I felt like I was suffocating from the pressure, the fear of them finding out. Kurt drove me home, chattering endlessly about his audition once again. When we pulled into the driveway, I kissed him goodbye and ran inside. I buried myself in my covers and cried myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Diary,_

_ Today was a good day. I haven't had one of those in a while and it feels amazing. I don't know how long it will last, but I'm going to enjoy it while I can. That's a very optimistic thing to say, don't you think? "Tomorrow might suck so I'll enjoy today." Well, maybe it's only a little optimistic, but it's certainly better than I've been. I sang a solo in glee club today and everybody loved it. Even Santana had a smile on her face, though she's been much nicer to me since the slushie incident. I wish it didn't have to take me nearly getting blinded for her to come around, but I'll take what I can get. At the end of rehearsal Mr. Shue announced the soloists for regionals and I GOT ONE! I got a competition solo. Somehow it feels even better than it did at Dalton. Maybe it's because I know from Kurt how hard they are to get above Rachel and Finn. Maybe it's because I feel accepted. Nobody got mad about it; nobody called me a spotlight hog. They congratulated me. It felt nice._

_ Kurt and Rachel both decided to hold off on Regionals in order to up their chances for a solo at Nationals. I don't know if it works this way, but apparently Rachel did it last year. _

_ The look on Kurt's face when he said I got a solo is something I'll never forget. It was exactly like a movie. The world slowed down and went silent and we turned our heads and looked at each other. He had that adorable toothy smile on his face and the _proudest_ look I've seen since he got his NYADA audition. He's never looked that proud about me before and it felt amazing. He clapped and smiled and he kissed me, full on the mouth in front of everybody. He whispered in my ear that he was proud of me. _

_ I felt like I was on top of the world._

* * *

><p>"How was everyone's day?" Burt asked as he took another helping of the lasagna Kurt and Carole had made that night.<p>

"Well, Blaine has a big announcement," Kurt said, and all eyes turned towards me. It was one of the things I loved about the Hudson-Hummels; I always felt welcomed and loved here. They treated me like one of their own.

"I, uh, I got a solo at Regionals," I said. Finn just muttered that he already knew that, but Carole smiled at me and promised me extra dessert in congratulations.

"Wow, well done, kiddo," Burt said, patting my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of his hand there even after he went back to his meal. My family never showed any affection, even before I came out. Cooper did, I remember, but he's been gone for a while. My parents were never the touchy-feely type and those little things here always left an impression, always left my skin burning with too many emotions; want of it again, happiness that somebody cared, regret that my parents didn't, disappointment that nothing I did would change that.

"Thank you," I whispered over the lump in my throat.

"I know from Kurt how hard those solos are to get. I'm proud of you, and I can't wait to see you perform." Burt smiled and took another bite of chicken.

"Well," Carole said, "I am so excited to see this performance. Your guys' last Regionals. I'm sure you'll all make it quite a show."

I was so happy Kurt got to have such an amazing family. With all the shit some kids at school put him through, I was glad he got to come home to such a loving environment. I didn't even live here and Burt and Carole treated me better than my own parents did. Kurt was proud of me, Burt and Carole were proud of me, Finn was busy eating and honestly I didn't care that much about his opinion, but I was proud of me, too. I felt genuinely happy, like I was the guy I always pretended to be. I had never wished more than in that moment to be the guy everybody thought I was. I wanted to be him so badly, but I didn't know how to get there. I didn't know how to be happy when, in the back of my mind, I knew I'd have to go home to a cold, distant family. Not when my parents ignored me, when the Warblers betrayed me for that stupid fuck Sebastian. Not when people sneered at me without knowing for sure if I was gay. I pushed those thoughts as far back as I could as we finished dinner.

Kurt and I cleaned up after our meal while Burt and Carole prepared for a night out. Finn left right after shoving a whole piece of cake in his mouth to go visit his _fucking fiancée_ Rachel. As soon as we heard Burt and Carole's car leave, we ran up to Kurt's bedroom. We hadn't done anything sexual since I injured my eye, and tonight was the night. The look in Kurt's eye as he shut his bedroom door told me he knew it too. The door had barely clicked shut before he was on my, kissing me roughly and unbuttoning my shirt as he pushed me towards the bed. I felt my legs hit the mattress and I fell back, Kurt crawling on top of me.

"I've missed this," he whispered before kissing his way down my neck. I helped him take off my shirt and quickly set to work on his.

"Pants," I said, and I could hear the low roughness in my voice.

It wasn't long until Kurt was inside me, both of us moaning at the sensation. It's amazing how much you forget after just a few short weeks. The memory is never as good as the real thing. Our relationship had always been about much more than sex. We were closer, more in tune with each other than any of our friends were with their boyfriend or girlfriend. For that reason, I hadn't expected sex to change things that much, I thought it would be just another thing we did. I was wrong. Sex changed everything. Suddenly, the things we had been self-conscious of didn't matter any more. When you're that intimate, that vulnerable with someone, the little things just fall away because suddenly they're not important. Kurt and I were completely comfortable with each other. We got to know parts of each other we hadn't even thought existed. Kurt told me about his mom, and I told him about my first high school and the Sadie Hawkins dance. Months earlier, Kurt had literally kicked me out of his room for discussing sex, and now he was whispering dirty things to me in the hallways. It was the difference between _knowing_ each other and _exploring_ each other—it went so much deeper. Every time we were together reminded me that we still had more to learn, more to explore together.

We finished together, both of us laying limp and panting. After a few minutes, Kurt finally rolled off of me and cleaned us up. I just laid there looking up at him. I loved how he took care of me, how he always took care of me no matter what was happening. He always made sure I felt comfortable and warm and _loved_. Moments like this made me want to tell Kurt all of my secrets, all the things I kept buried, and I had to fight to keep them in. Kurt knew me better than anyone, but I didn't want him to know this, no matter how great he always was with me. Kurt looked at me with such love and affection and _awe_ and I never wanted him to stop.


	4. Chapter 4

_Fucking Sebastian._

_He came out of nowhere. I went to visit these guys I thought were my friends and he and Nick were singing "Uptown Girl" and he grabbed me and pulled me into the group and it felt good. It felt good to be back with the guys and this new guy who was singing lead. Then we got coffee together and he was flattering, if not a little overbearing. But he told me I was like sex on a stick and he looked at me like he'd never wanted anything more and I ate it up. It was nice to get attention from another guy._

_It was so stupid and I should have just left, but how could I? This guy was more or less throwing himself at me and I let my mind go there. I thought about what it would be like if I were with him instead of Kurt. I invented scenarios in my head. I knew the guy wanted in and out—wanted to use me—but the idea appealed to me._

_It made much more sense than somebody like Kurt loving me. _

_I didn't deserve Kurt, I don't deserve Kurt. I deserve to be used for nothing, not to be loved, especially since it's all built on a lie._

_So I let myself fantasize about what things with Sebastian would be like. Of course I went out for coffee with him again. I was curious. But then I was sitting across from him and all I could think about was how much I wanted Kurt there, but it was too late. Suddenly we were going to a gay bar and I know what alcohol does to me but I was nervous so I drank. Then I danced with Sebastian, then I tried to get with Kurt in the back of the car like the selfish asshole I am and we fought and it was all Sebastian fucking Smythe's fault. He invited us, he got me the drink. He knew what it would do and all because he wanted me to himself. _

_He had my number and he kept calling me and I tried to tell the guy no but he wouldn't let up. I thought maybe we could just be friends, I could keep telling him no and helping him with show choir stuff and that would be that. Then he stole our MJ idea and told my friends it was my fault and turned everybody against me. Again. _

_Then he tried to slushie Kurt and he only ended up hurting me—physically hurting me. The rest of the fucking Warblers didn't even care. What had he said to them to make them turn on me? How did he get them to go along with it, and then leave me SCREAMING on the pavement as they ran away?_

_Sebastian must know. He must know all about me and who I really am. That bastard can see right through me. We're both awful people; takes one to know one, right? So he told them and they were disgusted and that's why they turned on me. _

_Jesus Christ, what if he tells Kurt? Hopefully he won't if I keep talking to him. _

_Fucking Sebastian. _

* * *

><p>"What the fuck was he doing there? We can't go there anymore," I yelled as Kurt drove out of the Lima Bean parking lot.<p>

"He's just an asshole, Blaine, and he's just there to piss us off. Calm down, okay?"

"No I will not calm down! That piece of shit nearly blinded me, and none of the Warblers even cared. He turned them all against me."

"He didn't turn them against you," Kurt said, looking over at me sympathetically.

"He did, Kurt. He turned them against both of us. What happened to 'once a Warbler, always a Warbler,' huh? He said something to them or they wouldn't have tried to hurt us. They _left_ after he slushied me, Kurt. They just walked away!"

"Blaine, I think…"

"Don't, Kurt! Don't defend them. They were my friends, or they were supposed to be. But they turned on me. They turned on me and they left me just like everybody else." My voice was rising, sounding hysterical even to me. "Everybody keeps hurting me in the end and I don't understand what I'm doing wrong." My voice cracked and I dissolved into tears in Kurt's front seat. I wanted to calm down, tried to, but I couldn't. The floodgates had been opened and there was no stopping it. My whole body shook with sobs and Kurt sped up, his eyes wide as he pulled onto his street and into the driveway. He pulled me from the car and into the living room where I collapsed onto the couch. Kurt wrapped me in his arms and rubbed my back, whispering to me things I couldn't hear over the sound of my own heartbreak.

"What did I do wrong, Kurt? What?"

"Shhh," he said, kissing me over and over, anywhere he could reach—the top of my head, my temples, my cheek. "You didn't do anything wrong, baby. You didn't." I could hear the strain in Kurt's voice that meant he was crying too. When I thought about it, I could feel the wetness on my forehead where his tears had landed. I cried even harder then, because I felt terrible for making Kurt cry. He was so kind and beautiful and I hated to upset him. On the other hand, though, I was glad he cared enough to cry.

"Then why?" I begged.

"Sebastian is just a jerk and he likes to play mind-games with people, okay? None of this is your fault. You did nothing wrong here, baby. Those guys love you, I know they do. And I love you so much, Blaine. You're so strong and so brave and nothing will ever change that. I promise." I nodded.

"And New Directions loves you, and even Santana loves you, and she doesn't love anybody but Brittany."

"But for how long? I'm so sick of people leaving me." I took a deep breath to calm my voice. "The kids at my first school beat the shit out of me after I came out and I had to leave. Now I've left Dalton and they betrayed me, too. They never cared that I was gay; they never cared about any of it. I was just their friend and they loved me. They were always there for me and now they're not and it fucking _hurts_."

"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry they hurt you. You deserve so much better than that, okay? It's their loss." Sobs overcame me again. He had no idea. I didn't deserve better, and they were better off without me—that was the _point_. Everybody was always going to leave me because they eventually learned better. I wasn't worth their time.

I cried until I couldn't anymore and I fell asleep in Kurt's arms.

I woke up a few hours later with Kurt's arms still wrapped around me.

"Hey, honey," he said when I turned towards him.

"Hi."

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked. His eyes were filled with concern and it broke my heart to know I put it there. His eyes were grey, and they only looked like that when he was sad.

"Yes, much." _No, much worse._ "I should go home, though. My parents will be worried about me." _They probably haven't even noticed I'm not there._

Kurt drove me home, his hand holding mine the entire way. We didn't say anything, but I was fine with that. Inside I was still devastated and now I was embarrassed about my dramatic display and worried about how Kurt would react. That was the most I'd ever let my emotions show in front of him and it was terrifying. We pulled into my driveway and he kissed me softly.

"Call me if you need to, okay?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too."

I walked inside and went straight to my bathroom. I pulled out my razor and rolled my sleeve back. I pushed the razor in until I saw blood and drug it across my skin. Blood dripped into the sink as I drew four identical lines in my wrist: one for losing the Warblers, one for ever befriending Sebastian, one for breaking down in front of Kurt, and one for the pain that wouldn't go away.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Diary,_

_ Yesterday we found out that Dave Karofsky tried to kill himself. A teammate saw him with Kurt on Valentine's Day and told everybody. I guess they've been bullying him pretty hard and he couldn't handle it. They said his dad found him hanging in his closet._

_ Nobody really knows how to take the news. Mercedes is insistent that none of us would ever get to that point, would ever be that desperate. Mr. Shuester wants us all to look towards our futures. Kurt is devastated. He blames himself because he turned Dave down and then never answered his calls. He even went to a God Squad meeting and to visit Dave in the hospital. Sebastian feels guilty, too. Apparently they met at Scandals and he was mean to him. He's vowed to change now. I don't know if it will last, but I hope it does. Quinn thinks Dave was being selfish and trying to hurt all the people around him. She thinks he was cowardly. Everybody has an opinion._

_ I don't have the heart to tell them that I think he was brave._

* * *

><p>Kurt and I had been cuddling on his bed for hours. He was upset about Karofsky and just wanted to listen to sad music and lie around. Really it was all he could do since he heard the news, but it made me restless. Every idle moment was another moment spent in my head, tearing myself down for everything that was going on. I had been trying so hard to be okay after I broke down in front of Kurt because I didn't want him to worry about me, but I was angry and with everything that was happening with Karofsky it was getting harder and harder to hide what was going on inside my head. I could feel myself breaking, and the idea of it seemed even worse now. Everybody was so sad about what happened and nobody could stop talking about it. They didn't even like Dave that much, but suddenly they couldn't stop talking about him, couldn't stop asking what they could have done differently.<p>

I had thought about suicide before, but the idea was to free people from me—not burden them with my passing. I never wanted them to speak about me the way they did Dave, and I certainly didn't want them to feel as bad about me as they did about him.

Everybody was watching each other so much closer now, and it was terrifying. I had to watch every move I made because if I made one slight misstep, everybody would see it and everybody would _know. _At the same time, though, I felt like this was my chance. This was the perfect opportunity for me to stand up and say 'will somebody please help me?' But I couldn't do it.

Instead I was lying in Kurt's bed thinking about how easy it would be to die. I needed to get up, go for a run, clear my head, but Kurt needed to lay around and talk, and if that's what he needed, that's what I'd give him. Honestly I was surprised he wanted to be around me at all; I had snapped at him a few days earlier, something I'd never done before. I just wasn't fun to be around lately, and I wondered if he'd noticed. I wondered if he knew that, beneath my calm exterior, I was falling apart. I wondered if he knew, like I did, that this was just the calm before the storm.

I wondered what that storm would look like.

I had cut myself the day we found out, and it was the worst damage I had ever done to myself. I didn't just cut—I slashed. I had never cut anything but my wrists before, but when I was finished I found myself with cuts all over my hips and legs. I felt better afterwards, though. I felt like all the pain I was feeling on the inside was on the outside too, where it belonged. This way, everybody could see what a fuck up I was. It wasn't until a few hours later that I became terrified. I had worked so hard to keep it a secret, but these cuts were too deep, too numerous to cover with makeup. I realized I was going to have to work even harder to keep it a secret. Otherwise everybody _would_ see what a fuck up I was.

I had my sleeves pulled up over my hands while I had my arms wrapped around Kurt, rubbing my thumb back and forth on his arm as he lay with his head on my chest. He hadn't spoken in a while, but I knew he wasn't asleep.

"You know it's not your fault, right?" I asked. Kurt let out a shaky breath before answering.

"I just can't help but wonder if it would have been different if I had answered his stupid phone calls."

"No, don't think that. You had no reason to answer his phone calls, not after everything he's done. It wasn't you, it was the kids at his school, it was society, it was this stupid fucking city that hurt him, not you. Okay?"

"I can't wait to get to New York," Kurt said, and I could feel the warm tears as they hit my chest.

"I know. I know," I said, lifting off the bed a bit to kiss the top of his head.

Kurt cried in my arms and it made me feel sick to my stomach. If he felt this badly about _Karofsky_, what would he feel if it were me? I never wanted to hurt him like that. I wanted only the best for Kurt—he was the only light in my life and I loved him so damn much. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do that if I kept things going the way they were. I had done nothing but lie to him about who I was, who I _am_, and he deserved better than that. I was at the point, though, that I didn't know how to get out. I didn't know how to tell Kurt, how to tell _anyone_ how much pain I was really in. I didn't know how to tell Kurt that the person he loved was a lie, that really I was broken and I didn't know how to ask for help.

That was it; I needed help—professional help. I was broken, and I couldn't fix this by myself. If I wanted to be with Kurt forever, I was going to have to work hard to get it. I had to put my fears aside and tell Kurt everything, tell my parents everything, and try to get better. I just needed to speak up. I needed Kurt to love me for me. I wanted to do this for myself, too, because _damn_ it must feel good to actually like yourself.

"Kurt?" I asked. My shaky voice caught his attention and he turned toward me, his red-rimmed eyes filled with concern.  
>"Yes?"<p>

"I, um, I…" my voice broke and Kurt sat himself up a bit more to look at me. _I need you_, I screamed in my mind. _Fuck, I need you. Help me! _"I just… I need… I can't…" _I can't do this._ And I couldn't. I couldn't fucking do it because what if he hated me? What if he was so disgusted by what I had done that he ran out of here and never spoke to me again? I would have no reason to live if he left me.

Worse, what if he still loved me and just wanted me to get better and what if, in the process, I just ended up hurting him? What if I just pulled him under and he drowned in his own self-loathing? I couldn't live with myself if the only difference telling him made was making Kurt as miserable as I was. It seemed like either option would end with me killing myself, which is where I was headed anyway. There was no reason to take him down with me. Kurt deserves far better than to feel like this, and I just couldn't risk hurting him.

"I just wanted to remind you that I love you." Kurt stared for a moment before pursing his lips. He knew that wasn't what I wanted to say but, thankfully, he didn't push it.

"I love you, too," he said. He sighed tiredly and snuggled up next to me. He kissed me on the cheek. "I'm here for you, Blaine, whatever you need." He closed his eyes and I waited until his breathing had evened out to cry.


	6. Chapter 6

_Dear Diary,_

_ Things have been going a little better lately. Not a lot, but it's something, right? Glee club is much less stressful and I've been doing well in my classes. Not that I ever did poorly in my classes, but it's still nice to see an A on my assignments after I work so hard on them. _

_ Kurt's been watching me a little more closely lately, ever since my little breakdown, and especially after the Karofsky thing. Dave's out of the hospital now, by the way, and Kurt visits him occasionally. I hate that Kurt is worrying about me and I especially hate that I gave him reason to. I have been working so hard for so long to make sure everybody sees me how I want them to, but I feel like I'm slipping. Kurt's definitely noticed._

_ I can't wait until I graduate. One year without seeing Kurt all the time is going to be awful and lonely and terrifying, but then I'll be following him to New York, I'll be out of this homophobic town and making my own life. I can't wait to get the hell away from here. Mostly I can't wait to get away from my parents. _

_ This is, of course, all assuming I stick around that long. _

* * *

><p>"So, my place tonight after dinner, right?" Kurt asked as we walked hand in hand through the parking lot after school.<p>

"Yeah. Sounds good."

"And Finn and Rachel will be there, so we'll probably end up watching some crappy action movie or something."

I laughed as we approached Kurt's car, where I pushed him up against it and kissed him.

"Fags!" someone shouted at us. Kurt just sighed.

"I love you, I'll see you later," he said.

"Love you too." He got in and drove away as I walked slowly to my car.

I took my time going home because I tried to spend as little time there as possible. I decided to stop off at my favorite music store and buy myself some new records. I usually went there a few times a month ever since I bought myself a record player last year for my birthday. I was obsessed, and bought as much music as possible in record form. Sometimes I bought oldies, and sometimes brand new releases. These were always my favorite, because they somehow felt more rare than the old. There I was with my old-fashioned version of the music, while everyone else only had their digital versions—intangible versions hidden mysteriously inside a hunk of metal. I liked the idea of knowing where my music came from. I found "Cough Syrup" from a record I bought there the month before. I sang that song to Kurt the day Karofsky tried to kill himself. That was before we found out, of course.

I finally walked into my house at about five, and I could tell the moment I walked in that it was going to be a bad night. There was a tension in there, like the grey clouds that still linger after a storm. I walked into the living room to find my mother sitting straight-backed on the couch, staring unthinkingly towards the fireplace. She would have looked so elegant if it wasn't for the wine glass in her hand and the half-drunken bottle on the table. I cleared my throat and she turned towards me. She stared at me for a moment before turning back towards the fireplace. She looked so empty, so defeated. I hated seeing her like this, but I couldn't bring myself to feel bad for her. More than anything, I hated that she allowed herself to get like this. Anybody could see that she was unhappy, but she never did a damn thing about it. She stuck to her loveless marriage and got through her days with the help of alcohol. She was never without it. My father is not an easy man to leave, but it wouldn't have been impossible. She never even tried; she just let herself be miserable. It disgusted me.

"Do try to be respectable tonight, will you?" she said after a few moments. She reached forward and refilled her wineglass, not even bothering to hear my response. I couldn't help but wonder what she would say if she knew I was just like her. She was always so proud that I had gotten her curly hair and her dark skin. She probably wouldn't be so proud to know I had also gotten her disease.

I turned and walked out of the living room, leaving my mother alone with only her wine and her self-pity. I crept quietly past the door of my father's study, where inside I could hear his angry voice, probably yelling at some "incompetent piece of shit" on the phone. I walked into the kitchen and started preparing dinner. I couldn't cook like Kurt could, not even close, but I had been taking care of my family long enough to be able to pull together a decent meal.

Cooking used to be so relaxing for me. I could lose myself in the repetitive chopping, cutting, stirring and clear my head of the day. Now I could only focus on the knives, the red juice that dripped out of the tomatoes as I chopped, the tears that I blamed on the onions. I couldn't cook the vegetables or make the mashed potatoes without wondering if anyone would notice if I just stuck my hand into the heat. Sometimes I doubted _I_ would even notice.

My parents came into the kitchen at precisely 6pm, just as they did every night. I set the food on the table and we sat quietly, my mother looking only at her food and my father sitting with his Blackberry in hand.

"How was school today, dear?" my mother finally asked after a few silent minutes. She only called me dear when she wanted to annoy my father. He hated when she called me that; he thought she babied me and wasn't preparing me for the "real world." He glared up at her, but she only smiled at me and took a sip of her wine.

"It was fine," I answered. "I got an A on my history test, and I got to sing a solo in glee club this afternoon…" My father slammed his fist on the table and I flinched. He hated when I talked about glee club, and I was stupid enough to let that slip out.

"I don't want to hear about that fucking club, Blaine."  
>"Dad…"<p>

"No! You know how I feel about it, but I let you do it anyway. All I ask is that you don't talk about it to me and you can't even give me that. Keep this up and you're done!"

My heart started pounding in my ears because, though it wasn't the first time he'd threatened to make me quit, it always terrified me. Glee club was one of the only good things I had left.

"I'm sorry, dad. I won't mention it again, I promise."

"I never liked that you sang like that, Blaine. I didn't like it at Dalton, and I especially don't like it at this _public_ school." My father's face was bright red as his anger rose. Sometimes it is impossible to get him to stop once he got going, no matter what you do. "I give you a lot of freedom, Blaine, and you almost never repay me."

"Freedom? Everything you give me comes with a price, some kind of compromise. You let me go to McKinley, but you never stop telling me what a terrible choice I made for my future. You let me go to Dalton, but only _after_ somebody beat the shit out of me…."

"Enough!" my father yelled. My mother sat calmly in her chair and refilled her wine glass. I thought there was a good chance she'd finish that bottle tonight.

"I let you go to that school and you left. I let you be gay-"

"_Let me_ be gay?"

"-and all I asked in return was that you keep it out of this house until you left for college, and what do you do? You bring home that stupid _fag_ boyfriend of yours…"

"Don't call him that!"

"All I'm saying, Blaine, is that you always push too far with the things I give you, and it has got to stop. Don't bring that boy, or that glee club, under this roof. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," I said, and I stormed out of the kitchen and up to my room.

I had heard this all before, but somehow it never hurt any less. My family had never been perfect, not even close, but after I came out everything was suddenly compromising and deal making and keeping promises. I could never live up to it and my father made sure to remind me of that fact. Whenever we spoke we just ended up screaming at each other, insulting one another, or he would insult _Kurt_ like he was better than him and it pissed me off.

Aren't our parents supposed to love us unconditionally? Aren't they supposed to give and give and never ask for anything in return? I mean, isn't that what love is—never expecting anything, but receiving it anyway? There are parents out there who love their kids even when they're serial murderers, rapists, bank robbers. How come my parents couldn't love me just because I love boys?

Why wasn't I good enough for even them?

I paced back and forth in my room for a few minutes, hateful thoughts swirling around in my head. Somehow, no matter the situation, the blame always ended up on me. There was a reason nobody loved me, I just hadn't figured out what it was yet. I ran into the bathroom and barely made it to the toilet before I started throwing up.

I lay sobbing over the toilet for god knows how long. I just couldn't stop. Even when I crawled away from the toilet and reached under the sink for my razor I cried. My vision was blurred and all I could see were red blobs as I cut and cut and cut. I covered my wrist and made it halfway up my forearm before the tears stopped flowing and my head cleared.

I sat unmoving on my floor for a few minutes and let the peace from my self-punishment wash over me. I put away the razor and cleaned up. Just as I was putting on the last bandage my phone beeped. It was Kurt telling me that dinner was over at his place and I could come over anytime. I changed my shirt and threw the bloodied one into the garbage. My father yelled after me as I ran out the front door, but I didn't bother to hear what he was saying. I just needed to be with Kurt. I needed to curl up in his arms and feel loved.

I don't remember the drive over there, but suddenly I found myself taking off my shoes and walking through the foyer with Kurt.

"Are you okay, Blaine? You look upset." Kurt asked, his eyebrows drawn together and a frown on his face.

"I'm fine. Just got in a fight with my parents, but it's okay now. I'm just tired."

"Okay," Kurt said, though his face looked skeptical.

"Rachel is over already, and my dad and Carole are out at some congress thing my dad had to go to."

"Yeah, that sounds good. Hi, guys," I said as we turned into the living room. Rachel and Finn were cuddled on a chair, Rachel twisting the engagement ring around her finger.

"Hey man," Finn said.

"You look tired, Blaine. Are you okay?" Rachel asked. She was never one for tact.

"I'm fine, just tired, yeah" I said.

"Well you better get some rest. We need your talent for glee club and can't afford for you to slack off."

"Rachel," Kurt scolded, and I was glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that death stare. Rachel mumbled an apology and turned back to Finn. I grabbed a blanket and sat next to Kurt on the couch. Finn hit play on the remote and I lay back against Kurt's chest. He wrapped his hand around mine and kissed the top of my head.

(line break)

"Blaine? Blaine honey, wake up," I heard Kurt whisper. I opened my eyes to see Finn grabbing his keys to take Rachel home. I tried to respond but it came out as a mumble even I couldn't understand. Kurt tapped my shoulder and I sat up, rubbing my eyes as I woke up properly.

"Are you going to be okay to drive?" Kurt asked. I looked up at him and had to look away because his eyes looked so sad. Had I done that? Of course I had. Kurt was worried about me because I told him I got in a fight with my parents. I should have just told him I was tired. I didn't want to burden him with my problems.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I said as I stood up and walked to the front door. I put on my shoes and coat, Kurt staring down at me with his arms crossed over his chest. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I stood up and grabbed my keys out of my pocket.

"I love you, Kurt," I said.

"I love you too, honey. So, so much." Kurt said, his voice shaky with unshed tears. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed tightly, more tightly than he ever had. I pulled awkwardly out of his embrace and left, cursing myself for bringing Kurt down. My biggest fear was hurting him with all the things I felt about myself, and here it had already begun.


	7. Chapter 7

_Blaine,_

_ I've been concerned about you lately, especially after Karofsky's suicide attempt. You've been distant and snippy and sometimes you just look so sad, only to look bright and cheery again as soon as somebody comes up to you. I thought maybe you were stressed about regionals at first, then maybe school, then perhaps Karofsky. I thought maybe Sebastian was bothering you and you were feeling guilty or something. But it's only gotten worse over time, and I didn't know what to think._

_ Then you came over for that movie last night and you looked so upset, and I knew it was more than a fight with your parents. You passed out on my lap minutes into the movie and that's just not like you—you usually have so much energy. You looked so unhappy in your sleep and you kept flopping around, and that's when I saw the cuts on your wrists, the cuts that you put there. There were so many—old ones, recent ones, some covered in band-aids and I can only assume that those were fresh. I didn't say anything and I don't think anybody noticed, but I don't know what to do now. I'm scared, Blaine. I'm scared because I love you and I knew you were hurting but I didn't know it was that much. I don't want you to hurt, Blaine, and I certainly don't want you to hurt yourself. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and now I realize that maybe you don't see yourself the way I see you, but I want you too. _

_ You're smart and you're kind, you always put the needs of others before your own (almost to a fault). You always look so alive when you're performing, and it makes my heart race and my knees go weak just watching you. You're so strong and so gentle and you could do anything you want with your life because you work so hard. You don't take anything for granted and you make sure to earn the things you have. I was so lost and so alone when I met you on that staircase that day, and I will always see that day as one of the best in my life. You saved me, Blaine. You swooped in and swept me off my feet. You listened to me when nobody else did, you saw me and my problems and you helped me when not even my closest friends would. You loved me, you still love me. I wake up every morning feeling alive and beautiful because I know you're out there and I know you're thinking of me and I know we'll get to see each other at school. Do you have any idea how much you mean to me, Blaine? How important you are to me? Maybe I haven't shown you this enough, but I LOVE YOU. I love you more than I love anyone or anything and I want you to be okay._

_ I know that I can't just ask you to stop; I know that it's not that simple. There's some reason that you do this that I don't understand, and maybe I never will. But you need help Blaine, I hope you know that, and I hope you know that I will always be here for you, and that you can tell me anything. I want to help you; I want to try to understand what's going on in that beautiful head of yours. Please talk to me._

_ I love you so much._

_ Kurt_

* * *

><p>I folded up the letter and stuck it back in my backpack, where I had found it that morning in my first period class. I had probably read it 50 times by then, and would read it another ten before I went to lunch in half an hour. Kurt would be at lunch, and then I'd have to face this.<p>

I had been a wreck all morning. I had no idea how I felt; I was relieved, terrified, happy, sad, angry. How could I have been so careless as to let Kurt see my wrists? How was Kurt not horrified? I thought if he ever found them he'd be running for the hills. He wasn't even angry with me for doing it. He wanted to try to understand. He wasn't pushing me, he was asking me to come to him. He said he hadn't told anybody, and he said I saved him. Why was he being so nice about it? He wanted to help me, not dump me. As happy as I was, I didn't understand. The bell rang, disrupting my thoughts. I picked up my bag and walked slowly towards the lunchroom, praying to a god I don't believe in that this would end well.

I walked into the cafeteria and saw Kurt sitting at a table just inside the door. He was fidgeting, pulling on his sleeves and shifting his eyes over the crowd. I felt my heart clenching, but I didn't know if it was a good or bad feeling. I walked up to him slowly, tears filling my eyes as I reached forward and tapped his shoulder. He turned and looked up at me, and I lost it. He stood and wrapped his arms around me and I just stood there sobbing in the middle of the cafeteria, whispering apologies through my tears.

"Kurt?" I heard Santana ask, but Kurt just shook his head and I didn't hear anybody else. After a few minutes Kurt pulled away and wiped the tears from my face.

"Do you want to go back to my house? We can skip the afternoon and talk."

I nodded my head and let him guide me out of the room. We grabbed our books from our lockers, left the building, got in Kurt's car, and drove to his house. I sobbed the whole way.

Kurt led me up to his bedroom, sent a quick text off to Finn, and pulled me into his arms on his bed. He stroked my hair while I tried to calm myself down, whispering in my ear that he loved me no matter what. When the tears stopped flowing and my breathing evened out Kurt sat us up against the headboard, but still kept me resting against his chest, which I was thankful for because I didn't know if I'd be able to tell him while looking at his face. I didn't want to see his reactions.

"Do you want to talk, or will it be easier if I start asking you questions?"

I don't know what I did to deserve his kindness, but I was grateful for it.

"Questions, I guess. But easy questions?" I asked, chancing a glance up at Kurt. He smiled sadly at me and kissed my forehead.

"Did you, um, cut yourself yesterday?" Kurt asked, his voice tight as he stuttered over the words.

"Yes."

"May I ask why?"  
>"I got in a fight with my parents. I wasn't lying about that."<p>

"What did you fight about?"

I took a deep breath before I answered, and blinked away some tears. I knew this was the beginning of a long conversation, and didn't want to start off crying. I would save that for later.

"My father doesn't like that I'm in glee club. I accidentally mentioned it. Then he went on and on about all the things he gives me and how I never pay him back. He called you a f-fag," I heard Kurt gasp, "and I lost it because you deserve better than that and I'm sorry he said that about you."

"Blaine, does he ever call _you_ that?"

"S-sometimes. He doesn't like that I'm gay. He said I was 'allowed' to be as long as I didn't act on it until college, which is why my parents don't like you."

"Is that why you never let me come over to your house?" I just nodded and wiped away a stray tear.

"Do you fight with them a lot?"

"Whenever we actually speak, I guess. We don't talk much since I came out. My dad just works all the time and my mom drinks, but whenever we do speak we usually just fight."

Kurt sat quietly for a few minutes, I assumed to mull it over and calm himself down.

"Do you cut yourself a lot?"

"Sometimes. I didn't for a while, until Sebastian and the Warblers slushied me. Then I started doing it again."

"Why do you do it?"

I sat and thought about this while Kurt rubbed his hand up and down my arm. There were so many reasons, and while they made sense to me, I didn't know if they'd make sense to him, or anybody else. The reasons I started doing it weren't the reasons I was doing it then. Mostly I just didn't know how to tell him.

"It kind of depends. Sometimes I do it to p-punish myself. Sometimes it calms me down, like yesterday after the fight. Sometimes I do it because I just hurt inside and I don't know what to do about it."

"What is it that hurts that much, baby?"

"Everything," I sobbed. "The Warblers, my parents. Most of the time I don't think anybody in glee actually likes me, like I'm just "Kurt's boyfriend" and next year I don't know what's going to happen. I do it because I'm not who everyone thinks I am, I'm not who _you _think I am, and I love you so much and I don't want you to leave me but you deserve so much better than me."

I couldn't stop after that. The floodgates had been opened and everything I'd been feeling, everything I'd been keeping secret just came rushing out of me. I told Kurt _everything_. He sat and listened to me. He cried a lot and sometimes told me he loved me, but mostly he just stayed quiet while I spoke.

For the better part of two hours I told Kurt about all my problems, my thoughts, my fears, my shortcomings. By the time it was over I was trembling in Kurt's arms, but he never let me go. He held me tight and kissed away my tears.

"Thank you for telling me this, Blaine. I know it was hard for you."

I just nodded against his chest, reveling in his extra-kind words. I knew he was coddling me a bit, but I had been so scared he'd reject me that I didn't even care. I kind of liked it, actually. I needed it.

"You know you need help, don't you?" I nodded and took a deep breath.

"I didn't know how to ask. I didn't know what you would say, and I don't know what my parents will think and I don't want things between us to get even worse than they already are. My mom has been depressed for as long as I can remember and they've never done anything about it and I'm scared they'll just brush me off. I'm scared they'll tell me my problems aren't big enough, or that I'm just sensitive. What if they don't help me, Kurt?" My voice trembled, but Kurt pulled me a little tighter and held me together.

"What if we told my dad? We don't have to," Kurt added when I looked up at him with wide, wet eyes, "not if you don't want to, but I really think he could help."

"Will he be disappointed in me?" I asked, crying again.

"No, honey, no. He loves you, Blaine, and he just wants you to be happy and healthy, just like I do, just like Finn and Carole do, and just like all of New Directions does, okay?" I sat thinking for a few moments, wondering if it was worth it. Eventually I agreed.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Kurt was nudging me awake.

"Blaine," he said, "my dad just got home. I know it might be fast, but I think we should tell him sooner rather than later, don't you?" I swallowed nervously.

"Stay with me," I pleaded.

"Of course."

Kurt took my hand and led me down to the living room, where his father sat in his chair sipping a beer and watching sports highlights.

"Dad?" Kurt asked, and Burt turned immediately towards us at his tone.

"Is everything okay, kid? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"We left at lunch." Burt looked angry for a moment, but his concern and confusion pushed that aside. He turned off the TV and gestured for us sit down on the couch.

"What's going on? Are you being bullied again? Because I thought I told Principal Figgins…"

"No, dad. It's not like that." Kurt looked nervously at me, and I whispered in his ear, begging him to explain. I didn't think I could say it all again.

"We came home to talk." Kurt gave me one last nervous look before clearing his throat and looking intently at his father. "Yesterday when you and Carole were gone, Finn and I had Blaine and Rachel over, as you know." Burt nodded. "Well, Blaine was upset when he came and said he'd been fighting with his parents. He fell asleep as soon as the movie started and while he was sleeping I, um, well I noticed… I noticed that Blaine had some cuts on his wrists. Cuts that he'd put there." I didn't think Burt knew much about self-harm, but judging by his reaction he was at least aware of it. He looked over at me; his eyes looked so sad and he looked so concerned. I ducked my head and Kurt squeezed my hand.

"I left a note in Blaine's backpack this morning asking him to talk to me, so that's why we came home at lunch. We decided to tell you about it because we don't really know what to do. Blaine needs help, dad, but he's too scared to talk to his parents because they…" Kurt stopped a moment to wipe his eyes. "His parents don't accept him for being gay, and all they do is fight and… please help, dad."

We were both sobbing, then, and even Burt's eyes looked a little wet.

"Of course, kiddo. Whatever you need, Blaine, don't be afraid to talk to me, or Kurt, or anybody here, alright?"

I nodded.

"I'll have a talk with your parents and see what I can get done." I looked at Burt in pure panic because there was no way that would end well. He immediately put his hands up as if in surrender and said "No, no, don't worry about it, Blaine. If you need help, you'll get it. You shouldn't be afraid of your parents, and they shouldn't treat you any differently for being gay. I'm not afraid to tell them that. We'll talk more about this whole thing later, okay? I would like to know more if you don't mind, so I know what's going on. For now, though, you two should eat something and take a nap—you look exhausted. But can I just ask you one question, Blaine?"

I nodded again, afraid that if I tried to speak I would completely break down.

"Have you ever thought about killing yourself?"

Burt looked at me so seriously, and I felt Kurt tense beside me, squeezing my hand tighter. He looked over at me with his already tear-filled eyes. I couldn't lie to them. I didn't want them to know this, to know how dark things had gotten, but I couldn't lie to them after everything they'd already done, had agreed to do, just in the last few hours.

"Yes." I said.

Burt nodded and I saw a tear slide down his cheek before he stood up and walked into the kitchen. Kurt burst into tears beside me and pulled me into a hug. I sat in his arms and cried. I cried mostly from relief, but also for the fear I had about the future. Mostly, though, I cried because suddenly there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was small and it was distant, but it was there. Kurt and Burt had been my two biggest obstacles, and now they were my two biggest supporters.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Last chapter before the epilogue! Thanks for the reviews, and I hope you guys like it!

* * *

><p>"I don't know what I did to deserve all the Hummel's help, but they gave it to me, no questions asked. I don't know what Mr. Hummel said to my parents either, but they agreed to get me help. My mom told me she didn't want me to end up like her, and that they'd do what they had to to make sure I'm okay." Blaine looked around at the faces in the circle. It was his first group therapy session and, while he hadn't been excited to tell his story at first, now that it was over he felt better.<p>

"So, uh, that's why I'm here, I guess."

"Thank you for sharing, Blaine."

Everybody in the circle clapped for him, congratulating him on his bravery. He wasn't sure how brave it was to tell strangers all of your secrets, but he had to admit how freeing it was. All of these secrets had been weighing him down for so long; to say them all out loud already made the burden easier to bear. These people understood him and what he was going through, at least to an extent. They wouldn't judge him, because some of them felt exactly the same way.

"And how are you feeling about your therapy? I understand you've been seeing a doctor individually for a few weeks now. How do you think it's going?"

He looked at the woman leading the group and noted her kind eyes and soft smile. He decided he liked her just for that look. He didn't want people's sympathy, and he especially didn't want their pity, and she was giving none of that. She just listened, and the others just understood, and it was all he wanted.

"Sometimes I feel like it will help me. Sometimes I think it's a waste of everybody's time and money because I think I can't be fixed. I'm just worthless and stupid and it's not even worth trying."

"That's perfectly normal, you know that, right?" Blaine nodded at her, and she made a mark on her clipboard.

"You're not going to feel better overnight. It takes time and hard work, and a good support system, which it sounds like you have, at least from your boyfriend and his family, maybe even your mother. It's okay to still feel sad sometimes. It's an everyday battle Blaine; you just have to keep working at it."

Blaine nodded, but he frowned. Of course he knew it wouldn't be quick or easy, but damn had he hoped it would be. He'd hoped more than anything that a few weeks with a counselor and a few antidepressants would cure him right up. He wanted to see the world in all its colors again, he wanted to wake up in the morning and not feel like somebody had punched a hole right through him. He wanted to look at his boyfriend and feel worthy of him, and he wanted it now. He was so tired of feeling like this. Now that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, he felt exhausted, like the closer he got the harder he had to work, the more crap he had to trudge through to get there. He was trying, and some days he was hopeful, but mostly he was agitated and angry, set off by the simplest things. He had more good days now than he'd had in months, but somehow the bad days seemed worse.

Today was a bad day.

He had woken up in a bad mood, anxious about this group meeting. He'd agreed to go because he thought it would be good for him to talk to people who understood. Kurt was amazing, but he didn't get it like Blaine thought other patients might. And he'd felt so good after sharing his story, but by the end of the session he felt like an idiot. He'd spilled his guts about how worthless he felt, about how alone he was and scared for his boyfriend to leave for college. He'd told them _everything_, but then they started telling their stories, and his problems were so small compared to theirs. How was he supposed to compare with the man served in the war, or the woman who had to abort her baby because the pregnancy was dangerous to her? They had _real_ problems; Blaine was just dramatic.

He didn't stick around to talk to anybody when it was over, not even the therapist with the kind eyes, whom he'd heard yelling after him as he all but ran out of the building.

Kurt was waiting outside in his navigator, and Blaine jumped inside, not even greeting him before telling him to drive.

"Is everything okay, Blaine?" Kurt looked over at him, his hands gripping tight around the wheel. "Blaine?" Kurt said again when Blaine didn't answer.

"Can we go to your place?" Blaine asked, his voice quiet and shaky. He wiped a tear from his eye as Kurt turned the car around. "We can talk there."

The rest of the drive was silent, Kurt looking over occasionally, but not pushing the subject. Blaine just sat looking straight forward, not bothering to wipe the tears that fell down his face.

He was calm by the time they pulled into the Hummel's driveway. He and Kurt grabbed some water and snacks from the kitchen before heading up to his room. They sat the food on the nightstand and crawled in bed, Kurt wrapping Blaine in his arms. Blaine took a deep breath and let himself sink into Kurt.

"Sorry I freaked out," he whispered.

"Don't apologize. You never have to apologize for this okay? Do you want to tell me what this was about?"

"I guess I just felt stupid. Like, I told them the whole story and they were all really nice about it, but then they told their stories, and they were _real_, Kurt. They had real issues, real pain, and I guess I just felt inadequate, like my problems were silly or something. And it just hit me really hard because that was one of the things I was so afraid of, that people would think I was just a dramatic teenager looking for attention, maybe pissed off because I'm gay." Blaine took a deep breath. "But on the way here I remembered what Dr. Hamilton said to me, about pain being pain no matter where it comes from. He said you can't compare yourself to people like that because everybody has a different story, and everybody has different triggers." Blaine played absentmindedly with the blanket Kurt had thrown over them. Tears stung his eyes once again, but he blinked them back.

"It's not stupid, is it Kurt?" Blaine asked, barely above a whisper.

"No, honey, of course not. Your doctor is right, and the important thing is getting better." Kurt kissed the top of his head. "I'm so proud of you, Blaine. I know how hard it was for you to tell me and to face this, but you're working so hard and doing so well, and that makes me so happy."

Finally Blaine let a few tears fall. Kurt had an endless supply of compassion, and he always made him feel better.

"I'm not better yet, though."

"I know."

"Sometimes I still want to cut myself. Did you know that?" Kurt stayed silent, but shook his head. "Sometimes when I'm feeling really bad my wrists just itch, and all I can think about is cutting," Blaine continued. Kurt grabbed him a little tighter. "Sometimes I want to do it just to stop the itch, and sometimes I still think it will help, it will calm me down like it used to. I want to stop, Kurt, but it's hard. I've slipped up a few times." Blaine looked away, ashamed to admit his failures.

Kurt grabbed his hand and pulled it towards him. He pulled Blaine's sleeve back and kissed his wrist. He kissed all the scars he could see, and Blaine just watched in amazement.

"You're going to get better, Blaine," Kurt said, staring intensely into Blaine's eyes. "You're going to get better, but it's not going to be easy, and I don't want you to hurt yourself. I want you to call me whenever you feel like cutting, okay? I don't care what time it is, or if we're fighting, or anything. You call me and talk to me, got it?" Blaine smiled then.

"I will. Thank you." He leaned forward and kissed Kurt. For the first time in a long time, he felt it. He felt it deep in his bones, a wave of love and passion passing through him. It wouldn't be easy, but he would get through this. He had Kurt and his family, he had the New Directions, he had his therapists and he thought he even had his mother.

Blaine broke the kiss and smiled up at Kurt, a genuine, eye-crinkling smile that he hadn't felt on his face in months.

"I love you, Blaine," Kurt whispered.

"I love you, too. So, so much."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Here it is- the epilogue! I know this is a short fic, but this was the part of the story I wanted to tell. Thank you so much for the love, and I hope you guys like this story as much as I did.

* * *

><p>Blaine sat fidgeting in his seat. The ceremony was taking forever, and he had places to be. It was hot in New York this time of year, and his graduation gown was too heavy for this kind of weather. He tugged at his collar, willing the speaker to wrap up so he could get his diploma and go.<p>

Blaine was happy he was graduating, and he was proud of the diploma he was about to receive—elementary education. Blaine had a job lined up already for the fall: he would be teaching kindergarten at a private school a mere six blocks from his and Kurt's apartment. He had the summer to prepare and spend time with Kurt, and then the job of his dreams come fall. Kindergarteners don't have to do homework, so he knew his hours would be mostly consistent. Kurt was a NYADA graduate now, and was slowly working his way around the New York stage. He'd so far had a few small roles here and there, but was gaining attention. His hours were much less predictable than Blaine's, but they both loved the life they were leading together, and Blaine would get to attend all of his shows with this job. Things couldn't be better between them, really.

Blaine tried to listen to the speaker, some big-shot businessman or something, but his mind kept wandering elsewhere. His attention was drawn back when the man started talking about "overcoming obstacles." Blaine had heard speeches like these a million times in his life—who hadn't—but for some reason that day it really resonated. Perhaps it was his other plans for the day, perhaps it was the idea of Kurt sitting out in the audience with his family and Blaine's own mother. Blaine thought, though, that it was the fact that he was _actually_ graduating college. Six years ago the idea had seemed impossible. Blaine Anderson? Achieve something? Never! But here he was in his hot, tacky graduation robe and hat, his diploma, his job, his _future_ waiting for him.

He'd overcome so many obstacles in the last six years that sometimes even he was amazed at himself. It hadn't been an easy journey, not even close. First was the depression itself, the endless self-hatred, the cutting. Then telling Kurt and his family and his very first therapy session. After that came the drugs that made him tremble, gave him panic attacks, and at first made things so much worse. Those first few months had been almost worse than the preceeding ones, and many times Blaine had nearly given up, nearly stopped taking his medication and gone back to the razors and the mask. Kurt had always talked him out of it, though. Always.

Kurt had been there every step of the way, always supporting, always helping, and always answering when Blaine called. It hadn't been easy on him and the two had gotten in many arguments over the years, but Kurt never left, never gave up. Blaine would never be able to repay him for his support, but Kurt never expected him to.

Now here they were, both college grads, living together in New York and living out their dreams. Blaine was off his medication and past his demons, and now had his new life to look forward too.

Blaine blinked back tears and tried to focus on the speaker. He stuck his hand in his pocket and smiled as his fingers brushed leather. He and Kurt were happy and in love, and that's all Blaine ever wanted. It was all he would ever want for the rest of his life.

That's why tonight Blaine was going to propose.


End file.
